


Whore of Babylon

by imprimatur13



Category: Durarara!!, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crack, F/M, Gil is amazing, Incidental Crossover, Introspection, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-02 18:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15802248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imprimatur13/pseuds/imprimatur13
Summary: Gilgamesh is summoned into the modern era by a member of the Awakusu Group from Durarara!!, but his Master has no interest in the Grail. (Despite title, not Explicit.)





	Whore of Babylon

All the preparations had been completed. Awakusu Mikiya nodded to the men to his right and left, as they all congratulated each other on their mutual success in what none of them ever thought could really be possible. It had been decades since the last Holy Grail War, the fifth. In fact, to the best of their knowledge, this summoning would not be connected with a proper Grail War, as there would be no other combatants. They had done their best to ensure that. It hadn't been easy, infiltrating the Church and the Mages' Association, but the Awakusu Group's tendrils extended deep into every corner of this world's power, both revealed and hidden. Nothing was fully immune to their influence, and the right combination of bribes, favours, and threats had allowed them to engineer events to suit their purposes. True, they had exhausted nearly all their funds, and some of their less intelligent members had gone and gotten themselves killed -- which is what one really should expect, when you upset the wrong people. Now, they hoped to recoup their investment _in toto_ , with a significant profit.

* * *

 

The summoning circle on the ground shimmered in a red aura. It had been drawn with exquisite precision, using blends of the blood of lions, eagles, and a Leviathan, to concentrate the essences of the Kings of the Earth, Sky, and Sea. No one was really sure that it made much of a difference; there were stories of even the King of Conquerors being summoned with mere chickens' blood, but it never hurt to make sure. They had, unfortunately, no access to a catalyst for the summoning, and quite a lot of money and heads were predicated on this little experiment. They only hoped that the Servant they desired would appear, lured by the overwhelming scent of animal royalty.

"Get on with it," Awakusu said to the mage huddled in the corner, "we haven't got all day."

The real pity, of course, in the whole business, was that the Awakusu clan itself was not a magical family. This meant that they had to rely on someone else to take care of the summoning ritual itself on their behalf.

One of Mikiya's men pressed his handgun against the frightened Magus, and repeated his boss's order. The Magus was understandably worried, as he himself had heard stories of botched summonings, and he knew that if the Servant who appeared was not properly bound to him, he would be the first to face its wrath. Normally, this would not be an issue, as the Magus who would perform the summoning would also have made all the preparations himself, and so would have the luxury of triple-checking everything, to ensure airtight seals and bonds. What the Magus did not know, was that the reason the gangsters who had coerced him into helping them had only allowed him to participate in the very final stage of the ritual, was that as far as the Mages' Association knew, they were trying to build a gate to the Root. This would be for the purpose of funneling theoretically infinite amounts of mana from the Root, to the temporal realm, to fuel a "reactor", of sorts. Create a means of free energy, which they could then profit from, by selling it to world governments -- and of course, giving the Association a decent cut of the money. The last thing anyone in the Awakusu Group needed the Mages' Association to know, is that they were trying to summon a Servant. Not that there would be anything  _wrong_ per se with having access to unlimited, free energy, but they had no such lofty ambitions as reaching the Root. It was far too ethereal a goal for them to invest such a tremendous amount of money, effort, and men, with only doubtful possibility of success. The Heaven's Feel, on the other hand, was proven to exist, and all they needed to do was...  _bend_ it a little. That might not be such an unrealistic goal; they all knew that the particulars magical rituals were hardly so immutable as the Mages would have them believe.

 

The captive Mage inched toward the circle, trying even now to delay whatever might happen. After all, even if the summoning went exactly as planned, and whatever Heroic Spirit appeared did not eat or otherwise kill him, he had no guarantee the Awakusu would keep him alive after they had exhausted their need for his services. He thought of his superiors, greedily hiring him out to men of the lowest caliber, with not a care for his own welfare. All they cared about was "secrecy", lives of their subordinates be damned. So what if these glorified pea-shooters threatened to expose the ritual? Not like anyone would believe them. For his part, he felt that was a poor excuse meant to cover up the "research grant" donated by proxy corporations of the Awakusu to various fronts of the Mages' Association, totaling approximately $30 million, from what he had heard.

He drew a breath. There was nothing left at this point but to obey his captors, and pray to the Root for their mercy. If he did somehow survive this, he intended to retire from this nasty business. He originally joined the Clock Tower as a student, hoping to advance his theories using their superior library of magical tomes, as well as the expertise of their instructors. When he graduated, he looked forward to a bright, even somewhat idyllic future in a dark workshop, where he could craft his theories in peace. And maybe, just maybe, achieve the recognition from his colleagues and superiors that he knew he deserved. It was in pursuit of this recognition that he jumped at the chance to volunteer for a "special research assignment" offered to all researchers who scored above a certain mark on the annual reviews. He had been proud of his high scores, and this pride was exponentially intensified when he learned it qualified him to this select mission. Had he known that he would merely be prostituted to serve the base greed of base men, he would have been happy to allow some other poor soul to take the job.

At least the money was good.

* * *

"Now, I ask," Gilgamesh said, "are you my Master?"

The summoning had been completed, and Gilgamesh stood with a disinterested look on his face. It had been a while since he had been defeated by Saber in the 5th Holy Grail War, and he was honestly surprised the pathetic ritual was still ongoing. Hadn't these mongrels at least the common sense to come up with something new after who knew how many years of trying the same pitiful tricks? He surveyed the scene before him. There was a man lying off to the side, a frightened look on his face. Or rather, his face was there -- his body was some distance away. Apparently he had been decapitated. His right arm was missing as well. Not that it really mattered to him, but perhaps his new Master might be somewhat more interesting than that dullard, Tokiomi. He instinctively winced, thinking how insufferable it had been to deal with that fool's cloying flattery. Honestly, who did he take him for? It was simply insulting, to address the King of Heroes with such insincerity. At least speak your true thoughts, stuck-up worm, and don't think yourself above me that you may deceive me.

He thought now of Kirei. Kotomine Kirei, certainly, was interesting. But he had been defeated, in the end. An enjoyable show, but like all shows, it must eventually come to an end. Only one saga was neverending, eternally emblazoned upon this world in the hearts and minds of all its inhabitants. To be sure, the original story showed many variations over time, but as all Noble Phantasms can be traced to their originals in his grand Treasury, so could all stories of heroism (indeed, all stories of any kind) be shown to derive from the Epic of Gilgamesh. In a way, he mused, it was somewhat flattering. After all, these mongrels were not exactly Heroes, not even Fakers, but at least they showed enough ambition to seek power in their own way. They likely desired to be immortalized in the annals of magical history as those who had finally completed the ritual of the Heaven's Feel. It was cute. They were like mongrel pups who imitated He who was truly great, not because they had any conscious awareness of the significance of what they aspired to, but simply because they had been socialized to worship the heroes of the past.

He turned his attention back to the men before him. One of them, nearest to him, spoke to him.

"Indeed I am, Gilgamesh," Awakusu said. "As proof of our bond, I present my Command Seals."

He lifted his right sleeve, displaying a lattice of interconnected spirals. Interesting, Gilgamesh thought. So Kirei was not the only one who had plotted to acquire more than his rightful share of spells.

"Now, Servant, I have a job for you."

What might this be? Gilgamesh could only hope it was not something as mundane as laying waste to a mere 19th of a Servant, whose only skill be in quietly stepping so as not to arouse the fury of true warriors.

"Come with me," Awakusu said.

He bid his comrades (or were they employees? Slaves? It was unclear) farewell, and led Gilgamesh down a fluorescent-lit hallway, with many doors on either side. The doors were marked with tags displaying numbers starting at 1000, and descending, along with color-coding ranging from light blue to dark red, which seemed to shimmer and change every time he looked. No room retained the same color from one glance to another. Gilgamesh began to wonder what sort of life this man led, and would have asked, had he not felt that doing so would damage, however slightly, his Master's ability to perceive the Golden Hero's innate superiority. Mongrels were so easily distracted by such trivial things. Did they not know that there were other reasons to ask a question than simple ignorance? Ah, but that is why they never learn anything. Gilgamesh chuckled internally.

* * *

They arrived at last at the end of the hallway, at a door marked with a large, red "1".

"These will be your quarters, Servant," Awakusu said.

"That is very well, but what of the mission you have assigned me, Master?" Gilgamesh said, annoyed that the dirt speaking in his presence was apparently not so different from Tokiomi after all. Equally full of himself, thinking to patronize the King of Heroes by withholding information from him. He looked forward to betraying him, though he thought he might try a different tack this time around. Some more creative, more dramatically wonderful way of exacting punishment on this insolent dog. Some way befitting his own Kingship. He could spend some time here formulating a plan, he supposed, instead of boring himself half to death by waiting for this lazy-tongued bastard to tell him what was so important.

"Wait here for orders." Awakusu opened the door, revealing a remarkably well-furnished bedroom. Even in his heyday as King of Babylon, Gilgamesh had never seen such richly woven bedsheets. If only Enkidu... If only he had someone to share them with. Ah, well. Time to think, judge which of the underlings he saw earlier would be easiest to manipulate, and which would be most useful as a weapon. He'd want to maximize those two variables as well as he could.

* * *

He opened his richly crimson eyes. As he was a Servant, with it so happened a very prodigious supply of mana -- due to his Master's copious amount of Command Seals, no doubt -- he had no need to conserve mana like that, but Gilgamesh enjoyed sleeping occasionally, if only to remind himself of lying in post-coital, drunken bliss in his royal chambers. He had already worked out his plan, so there was nothing to do but wait for his Master to finally assign his orders, and let him out of this boring, if not entirely ugly bedchamber. He did miss the capacity to dream, but there was no need to inhabit fantasy worlds in his sleep, if he could realize his desires in the real world.

The door opened, revealing his Master.

"Gilgamesh, I shall now instruct you as to what your service to me will consist of."

He drew away from the door, and a woman entered. Gilgamesh had seen many worse in the past, and her long green hair cascading to her hips reminded him of Enkidu. He idly wondered what her purpose could be, and whether he might be able to sample her. For what other purpose could Awakusu have brought her, after all?

"Servant," he said. "You are to fertilize this woman."

 Gilgamesh scoffed at the apparent stupidity of the man.

"You say that, but do you realize the immense, and obvious flaws in your plan? For my Golden Sceptre's effusions to properly grow, they cannot be incubated by something as flimsy the womb of a human female. Their divinity precludes this."

"There are recorded cases of true gods impregnating human women; you yourself are not even totally divine. I see no reason why this should fail."

It stung, the mongrel saying "not totally divine." What did he, a low being not even worthy of worshipping the dust of Gilgamesh's feet, know of divinity, such that he should assume such a high-handed attitude and compare different kinds?

"Listen, you pitiful mongrel, even if she could serve as a receptacle to my glorious blessings without being destroyed by their sheer holiness and might, there is no way she could serve as a sufficient source of mana for my offspring's needs. Can you even imagine the quantity of magical power necessary to sustain my seed for even a single moment? Of course you can't. Give up this ridiculous plot of yours, whatever it is. I wouldn't be surprised if you simply wanted to create an army of Divines to carry out your meager ambitions, until of course they assert their inborn royal dignity and topple you from your throne of excrement. No child of mine, no matter the brainwashing or the coercion, would ever resign himself to be a mass-produced unit serving a dog's wishes."

Awakusu ignored the latter part of Gilgamesh's outburst. "Strip," he said to the woman.

At first she did nothing; just stood in place. For the first time Gilgamesh noticed her eyes. Her blank, lifeless eyes. He had no idea what Awakusu and his henchmen had done to her to make her like this, but it angered him. Did they not realize that there was no joy in dominating a lifeless puppet? Mongrels they may be, but the fun of women was the way they initially resisted him, fought against him, denied him. They possessed a certain sense of self-worth, which he found adorable, as if they were in any way able to attract a better lover. Silly girls. There  _was_ no better lover, and there was nothing he enjoyed more than showing them that. It had been the same with Saber. A pity he had not been allowed to show her true happiness.

In addition, he respected that defiance and independence, for it -- however faintly -- mirrored his own. Yes, in a mongrel there is no real need for independence, but he still enjoyed seeing himself in his bedmates. It created a curious blend of ego and the other, where he felt almost as if the one he was bringing to the heights of orgasmic ecstasy was himself, as if he were dominating, penetrating himself. He was at once the top, and the bottom, and that was really the ideal state for him. He often regretted that he stood alone, above all others, since the one pleasure in life he could never truly sample was that he gave to the fortunate ones who tasted the nectar of his love. This was the closest he could approximate to what he knew was a singular feeling.

For this reason, he was furious. He was insulted by the very idea that one of his playthings would need to be subdued by any means other than his own overwhelming presence. Who did they take him for?

He steeled himself, preparing to explore every cavity of her. It would be his greatest challenge yet, but he knew he could accomplish his goal. He would breathe life back into her fragile lips, invigorate her with the spirit of vibrancy, and snuff it out. He would repeat that cycle over and over again until her body could take no more of the stimuli he drilled into her. Yes, how delicious that would be.

* * *

The woman slowly moved, removing her thin tunic. She hadn't been provided with undergarments (really, this lack of dignity in her treatment as a toy indirectly served to show a lack of respect to her recipient, and caused his blood to boil further), so this was all that was necessary. Gilgamesh saw now that the dark mark he had noticed on her lovely neck, which he had assumed was a bruise of some sort, continued down her body. It traced her collarbone, her full breasts, and her abdomen, culminating in an intricate pattern above her genitals.

Having completed her undressing maneuver, she resumed her previous silent, unblinking pose.

Gilgamesh wondered about the nature of the marks. They were clearly no result of accidental injury, but the work of a highly skilled artist. He knew better than to assume that it was mere coincidence that a woman otherwise completely unadorned should sport such exquisite tattoo work.

"What are these wounds you have inflicted upon her who is to warm my body tonight? Surely you do not mean to insult me by intentionally defacing the gift you have presented to me," he said. "Any marks upon her fair skin are to be put there by my hand, and mine alone. I do not suffer fools to ruin a perfectly fine offering by imprinting their own wretched selves upon it."

"As you suspected, Gilgamesh," Awakusu replied, "There may be certain issues with mana supply during the pregnancy. For this purpose, we transplanted magic circuits into this woman, as many as we could. We had previously tested this on hundreds of others, trying to find that delicate sweet spot between too little that it could not suffice for the task, and too much that it would kill the subject. This woman is #472. You have..." he shook his head, "no idea how much money has been spent to bring this project to a viable state. Those mages are far more exacting in worldly matters than I ever suspected."

 _That idiot Izaya, telling me I wouldn't have to pay them much,_  he thought. _That "their noses are buried too far in their books and beakers to know the true value of their services..." Once this is over, that information broker is as good as dead. Well, at least he_ did _provide us with a good cover story to get them to work with us. Maybe not kill him. Maybe... maybe just keep an eye on him._

"Therefore," he continued, "I am fully confident in assuring you that she will provide better than adequate for housing your seed, Servant."

Gilgamesh considered this. It did indeed seem reasonable; given his experience with the Einzbern homunculi in the 4th and 5th Grail Wars, he knew of the vast potential that came with a body covered in magic circuits. He simply did not want to believe that the body an ordinary human, such as this woman evidently had been (before his Master's experiments on her, anyway), could possibly withstand the immense amount of mana that would be flowing through these circuits. The knowledge of the extent of Awakusu's dedication to his goal gave Gilgamesh a certain amount of respect for the man. Most would likely have given up, due to either the depletion of their personal fortunes in funding it, or due to the brutality of the (quite fatal) human experimentation required to bring about a satisfactory conclusion. In other words, the mongrels would be too weak to see either themselves or those who mattered even less than they did suffer at all. It was a rare one who realized that some things are worth fighting for, and suffering for, and if it so happened that a few appropriate sacrifices needed to be made, then so be it. One certainly couldn't expect to get anything worthwhile for free. In his kingdom, of course, it was well known that the gods required continual sacrifice. That was the purpose of man, that race of mongrels, who were created simply to serve the gods' needs and pleasures. It was Gilgamesh's role as king to ensure the people did their jobs, and so they did, under his iron fist.

Of course, Gilgamesh himself was essentially divine, and thus also worthy of such cultivation by the mongrels below him. However, the mongrels of those days at least all understood the principles under which the world operated, and their own place within it -- strictly below him. It was rare in this godless age to know a member of that race who grasped these things so well. And so Gilgamesh even found himself beginning to like Awakusu.

If he was ordered to copulate with worthy mortal vessels, who might bear the fruit of his loins, he would do so. Perhaps, centuries down the line, after significant interbreeding with humans, if his own divine genetics should filter into the population as a whole, it might be raised to some extent, and thereby become more worthy of his royal authority. And of course, as was predominantly important in his philosophy, he would have fun doing it. What more could he ask for?

 

"Very well," Gilgamesh said. "I accept this task. Leave the woman here, and go, that she and I may consummate our relationship of King and Consort."

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this work is interesting. In that, I first came up with the title, and thought "Hey that's kinda funny; what can I do with that?" And... so this was born. I was rewatching Durarara!! X2 at the time, so that's why the crossover elements are there.
> 
> I *may* continue this at some point; unlikely, but if I did, I'd love to experiment with Gilgamesh and Izaya having a (likely nonsexual) relationship. Those two are so similar, and I think they'd really have interesting interactions.
> 
> There are references in the character names to Kara no Kyoukai, but tbh those were there in Durarara already. The Awakusu group has people named Mikiya, Shiki, and Aozaki.
> 
> Hope you liked it!


End file.
